trojan theories
by shannello
Summary: call of duty iii : love causes wars, yknow. : bohater/baron; pierre/doyle; guzzo/dixon; keith/isabelle.


**War is For Lovers; **Shannello

**Bohater/Baron; Pierre/Doyle; Guzzo/Dixon; Keith/Isabelle**

Hi. Here's hoping there's more girls or gay boys who've played this game. :) This is all fucking crack. Oh, and excuse Pierre's and Isabelle's thick accents. I love accents too much. :) Review?

**Disclaimer:** Nope. I don't own _Call of Duty 3_.

* * *

**Bohater**

Baron was probably missing one of his chromosomes; the way he was acting was putting you off. It was a damn good thing he was attractive. He was jittery and nervous and if you had met on different circumstances you wouldn't have hit it off.

"Do you even know how to shoot that gun?" You had teased him. There was zero seconds left and you were _teasing_ the Canadian instead of spotting enemy tanks. He'd made this face and pointed his finger down the hill and said something like "This is my only duty, please do yours!"

Canadians were funny. You were hesitant to depend on Canucks, but when one finally arrived you were delighted. His skin was whiter than yours, and he blushed! What man, what _soldier_ blushed? You'd prefer to watch him than defend that hill.

_Prioritize_! There were more important things!

Like, instead of sniping approaching Germans, you sat there, watching Baron lose his marbles.

You heard his skull crack. Baron was the one that died? You were the one still alive? Then why were you bleeding? God, you were losing your...

Marbles? Perhaps you were missing yours from the start. You were the only one on your squad that thought men in uniform were irresistible.

* * *

**Pierre**

It was only a job. Protect the kid while he clumsily shot down Germans. Pierre was surprised that the kid was _good_. Too good, actually, and Pierre was nervous.

After the kid saved Pierre for the sixth time, the Frenchman _snapped. _"Stop protecteeng me!"

"It was just a mosquito!" Barked the kid, a look of condensation on his face. "Sure, next time Germans show up, maybe I won't be as... _charitable_!" Pierre blinked. The kid was annoying in more ways than one.

"You are more like a girl zan Eesablle ees!"

The kid tried to sock him in the jaw, but Pierre was better at hand-to-hand combat than he was. "I am not like a girl! I—I kill people! I kill people EVERYDAY!"

"Eesablle keels peeople all ze time!"

Pierre twisted the kid's wrist and the kid bunched his face up and bit him. Bit him on the _thumb._

"Bastard!"

The kid grinned. "You deserved it. See, if I was _protecting _you that would have never happened."

Pierre sighed. Perhaps the kid was right.

"Jealously is a curse, Pierre. A curse that most of the _female _population suffer from..."

Pierre exploded in a flurry of French and rage. Angrily, he pinned the kid on his back.

The kid looked up optimistically.

"Hey, I forgot," said the kid, winking. "Keith asked me to get some more ammo. Over there. Outside. Wanna protect me?"

Pierre blinked at him, picked up a rifle, and said, louder than normally, "Looks like I'm out of bullets!"

* * *

**Guzzo**

After Dix died, the squad wasn't as merry. They didn't go on their merry way anywhere. God forbid if they'd chuckle merrily. And they refused to initiate anyone else into the squad, because the more was definitely not merrier.

The guys automatically clung to Guzzo after Dix died, too. To them, Guzzo was the next best thing. But they stuck to calling him 'Guzzo', because with all these deaths in the squad, and all of the promotions and rank changes, it was hard to tell 'Sarge' from 'Private'.

But there was one thing the entire squad had in common. After Dix's death, they were all sure about one thing: They were going to win. And they fucking _did_.

"We've won! Dix, we've won Chambois!" shouted Guzzo merrily, his eyes scouting the battle field in front of him. Merrily, he turned, and grinned. He planned on squeezing the hell out of Dix, but Dix wasn't there. Unmercifully, Guzzo turned to Nichols and smacked him upside the head accordingly.

* * *

**Keith**

Isabelle didn't like the idea of having to plant charges alone. Sure, she was as brave as they came, but the factory was crawling with Germans and she just didn't have eyes on the back of her head. So, using her female sensibility, Isabelle appointed Doyle to charge duty as well, and dragged Keith off with her.

"Just stand watch and don't let eenyone keel me," said Isabelle, planting the charge.

"And, what if, hypothetically, _Pierre _mistakes us for Germans and attempts ta take us out?"

"Well, the likeliness of zat 'appening es slim... But, if eet well allow me to plant the rest of zeese charges, you can return fire."

"Frenchie's doomed, lass, if it _does _happen."

"Remember, Pierre es highly trained. Zere's almost no chance of him meestaking us for Germans."

"Yeah, but he was whining 'bout how that last grenade made his vision blurry..."

Isabelle pulled the ring and pushed Keith back, "Go! To ze next area."

Suddenly, a straight line of bullets surprised them.

Frightened, they looked up in the direction it was coming from. The bullets stopped. Pierre waved, smiling. "Just keeping you on your toes!"

Keith looked hopefully at Isabelle, who was clutching to his arm. Uninterestedly, she dropped her hand.

"He shot at us!" barked Keith, swinging an arm in Pierre's direction.

Isabelle blinked up at Pierre, sighed, and said, "Have fun."

* * *

:) Don't hate.


End file.
